


The Meeting of Earth and Sky

by miraculous_lovesquare



Series: Conductor of Light [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, Eventual Johnlock, Johnlock - Freeform, Jolto, M/M, ShootBadCabbies, Star!John, but it gets better, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:52:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraculous_lovesquare/pseuds/miraculous_lovesquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first of a star!john series I'm writing. An idea popped into my head when I started really getting into star!john, so I ran with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Star!John](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/87251) by shootbadcabbies. 



> CLICK THE LINK, THE DRAWINGS ARE SO CUTE!!! Thanks for reading! :)

When Sherlock was very young, he had found a boy in his backyard.  
 _Rewind_  
Sherlock closed his eyes tightly, clutching his stuffed bee. Mycroft would make fun of him for doing such a ludicrous and superstitious thing as wishing on a star, but he was lonely and desperate.

"Please send me a friend," he whispered to the night sky, "Please... Please... Please." Sherlock pried his eyes open just in time to see a beautiful shooting star. He watched it, and noticed it seemed to be getting closer. It was going to land in the garden! A real meteorite! He observed where it landed. "It landed in our backyard!" Sherlock murmured to his precious bee. He went to investigate. Sherlock opened his door quietly and looked down the hall. Empty. Good. He snuck to the landing and tip toed down the stairs, carefully skipping the creaky one. Sherlock couldn't get his boots on fast enough! He grabbed a torch and swung open the door before realizing he should have been more quiet. He froze. His eyes scanned the stairs, looking for a light or feet to suddenly appear. Nothing. Good. He stepped outside and closed the door silently.

Before long, he found what he was looking for. It certainly helped that the fallen object was giving off a soft glow. What is that? He thought to himself. He weeded his way through the bushes and gasped when he saw the crater.

Inside was a little child, about the same age as Sherlock. He watched as the fallen boy's eyes fluttered once. Twice. Then they opened. They were a beautiful baby blue. Sherlock inched closer to this strange kid. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings and cut his hand on a thorn.  
"Ouch." He said, observing the blood flow from the wound. The little boy sat up at his cry. Sherlock stared at him. He finally spoke up.

"I'm John. I'm a star child! I was chosen to grant your wish! I'm your friend now!" John giggle, his eyes seeming to glow.

"I'm Sherlock. You fell down from there!" He pointed to where the shooting star had originated.

"Really? Wow!" John answered, mesmerized by the dots of light in the sky. "Is that what we look like from down here?"

"Don't you remember?"

"No, but I remember you!" John smiled brightly. Sherlock tried to crawl forward, but he cringed at the pain in his hand when he did so. John watched and noticed the cut for the first time.

"Come here." The star child said. Sherlock leaned closer, gentle with his hand. John kissed the tip of his nose. Sherlock started, not expecting that at all, and John laughed again.

"A kiss makes everything better!" John recited happily, and he watched Sherlock's amazement at the small mark getting smaller, and eventually disappearing entirely. Sherlock suddenly blinked, bringing himself back to the Earth.

"Are you cold? Hungry? Thirsty? Tired?" Sherlock asked. John grinned.

"I am a bit tired, falling does really take the energy right out of you..."

"You can come to my room!" Sherlock suggested. "I don't mind if you sleep next to me in my bed! And you can look at all my stuff in the morning!" Sherlock stood up and brushed off his knees. He offered his hand to John.

"Coming?" He inquired.

"Of course!" John replied, taking Sherlock's hand and going up to the house.

The two walked and studied each other, Sherlock was amazed by John's glowing appearance and footprints while John was staring at Sherlock's stuffed bee. Sherlock noticed John's gaze and spoke up.

"It's a stuffed animal. You can hold it if you want to." Sherlock offered.

"Okay." John gently took the bee and cradled it in his arms. He poked the center experimentally and giggled when it bounced back. Sherlock decided he loved John's laugh and he would make an effort to make him grin and chuckle more often.

"This is star dust." John said suddenly, startling Sherlock out of his thinking. "It's all over stars and we leave it everywhere we go."

"Ah, okay." Sherlock said. They walked in companionable silence the rest of the way to the house.

The two quickly and quietly made their way inside and up to Sherlock's room. Sherlock jumped onto his bed immediately, exhasted from his little adventure outside. John stood and looked at Sherlock.

"I... errr... float a bit when I sleep. Is that okay?"

"It's fine!" Sherlock laughed, "Now come on over, I can show you around in the morning." John obediently got into the bed with Sherlock and soon after, they both fell asleep. _  
_

***

Sherlock woke up with a start. He wasn't used to someone else sleeping in his bed. He remembered the events of the past night and looked at his new friend. True to his word, John was floating a few centimeters off of the mattress! Sherlock watched in interest as John, seeming to sense his gaze, began to wake up. His eyelids fluttered and he slowly sank back down to rest on the bed.

"Good morning." Sherlock greeted. John yawned.

"What do you wanna do?" John asked, tilting his head to the side.

"I don't know, but eventually we'll have to tell my parents and brother about you." Sherlock said, rubbing his eyes.

"No." John replied.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock looked genuinely confused.

"Only the person who wished upon a star may see it." John explained. "Sometimes, given enough love and care, a star may become visible, but most just stay hidden to other people."

"Oh, okay." Sherlock said. That was a weight off of his mind. "But don't you have to eat? Drink?" 

"No, stars feed off of moonlight. We don't need physical food or drink." John replied. "What do you wanna do now?" He repeated.

"I'll show you my violin!" Sherlock said, jumping out of the bed and over to his case. John followed more slowly and crouched down beside the eager boy. Sherlock plucked one of the strings, making a low note. Then he plucked the next one, which was thinner, and it made a higher sound. John smiled brightly. 

"Can I touch it?" John asked. Sherlock nodded and John plucked the next two strings. "I like this one." John said, plucking the highest string again. Sherlock watched with joy. John liked the violin!

"Watch this." Sherlock said, picking up the violin and putting his fingers in first position. He played the D major scale, _pizzicato_. John watched with attentive fascination.

"Wow. That's really neat!" John said.

"That was a _scale_." Sherlock told John. "A scale is made of eight notes in an order. This one was D, E, #F, G, A, B, #C, and D."

"What's a sharp?"

"That's when you're half way between one note and the next. A flat is when you're between one note and the one before it." John looked a bit confused. "It's easier to see on a piano. I'll show you later, after I eat breakfast."

"What's that?" John asked pointing to Sherlock's microscope. Sherlock grinned.

"It's called a microscope. It makes small things bigger!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Look at this!" He went through his bin of slides and picked one out. He carefully set it into place and adjusted the microscope to focus. John looked through the eye piece and gasped.

"What is it?"

"It's a plant, specifically elodea!" Sherlock said in a way that made John sure that this 'microscope' was Sherlock's most prized possession. And he let John use it! That made John glow his brightest yet.

"Can I look at your star dust?" Sherlock asked toeing the ground nervously.

"Of course!" John answered, picking a pinch of it off the ground where he had stepped and handing it to Sherlock. Sherlock prepared a slide and put the glowing material on it. He swapped the elodea slide for the one he just made and looked at it.

"Wow! This is amazing! Look!" He slid aside to allow John to see his star dust. John saw the star dust and he was _stunned_. He had never seen anything like this before, let alone something off of _himself_. 

"It twinkles!" John noticed. Sherlock nodded, then remembered that John's attention was down the microscope and said "Yep." John sat back from the microscope and looked at Sherlock. Then, they both heard a voice from downstairs calling "Breakfast, boys!" Sherlock made eye contact with John.

"You said others couldn't see you?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes." John confirmed.

"Then you can come downstairs and I'll give you a tour of the rest of the house after breakfast."

"Alright." John said and quietly followed Sherlock down the staircase and into the dining room. Their adventures had only just begun.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so so so so so so so so sorry for taking so long to update. I'm hoping that since it's almost summer, I'll post new chapters more frequently.  
> On another note, this is where the story gets a bit more Au.  
> Please excuse my Americanism, and if there are any mistakes, please tell me so that I can fix them!

John decided he loved Sherlock's mother, even if she couldn't see him.

"Hello dear." Mrs. Holmes greeted her son with a kiss once he came to the table. She laid out a nice breakfast of eggs and pancakes. John had done his research of humans. Ever since he was two, his parents taught him human and star people things. He was glad he paid attention, otherwise he might have seemed stupid to Sherlock and he wouldn't want that.

"Good morning Mummy." A voice took John from his musings. This must be Sherlock's brother John thought. He watched as Sherlock's sibling very carefully ate, not spilling a single drop of anything on his pyjamas.

"Good morning Mycroft." So that was his name John realized as Mycroft also received a kiss from his mother. He observed as the family had breakfast (their father came down a bit later and John thought he was nice too). John clearly saw that Mrs. Holmes had passed on her intellect to her sons while their father contributed any good humour they had.

True to his word, Sherlock showed John the piano. "You see, the white keys are notes. Here's A, B, C, D, E, and F. The black keys are sharps. The one to the right of F is #F, and the same goes for the rest. The black keys are also flats. #F is the same as G flat. An octave is a whole set of notes, C to C." As he explained the keys on this instrument, John slowly began to understand. He played a scale for Sherlock after he was done talking.

"Wow! You have a real ear for music!" John blushed and looked at his toes. Sherlock decided that John looked adorable when he blushed. His cheeks didn't turn red like a human's do, he just glowed! Literally!

"Thanks." John replied. "You're the one who taught me, though. I learned it all from you!"

Now it was Sherlock's turn to blush. "Have you ever seen the periodic table?"

"No." John said. "Will you show me?"

"Sure, come back upstairs to my room!"

Once they got back to Sherlock's room, Sherlock grabbed a rolled up piece of paper from the corner.

"I haven't gotten to hang it up yet, but this is it!" Sherlock showed John a picture of a bunch of colored boxes. "I don't understand all of this yet, but I will when I'm older! At least that's what Mycroft says. All I know is that the different boxes are called 'elements', and the letters are the shorthand of what they are. Like here," Sherlock said, pointing to a box, "the Au is the short version of saying gold."

"Why did they use 'Au'?" John asked.

"I don't know, but some make more sense, like yttrium is 'y'." Sherlock said. "I picked gold because it's the color of your star dust. It's really valuable as a metal, too."

John stared at his dust in awe. He never knew that before, and it made him feel even more special. For a while, John and Sherlock entertained themselves with the poster, John pointing at letters, and Sherlock telling him what they stood for, and sometimes even how they are used in real life. Finally, after about 84 elements, the two decided that they needed something else to do.

"Could you play your violin again?" John asked.

"Of course!" Sherlock replied. As he was rosining and tightening his bow he heard John humming. "What are you singing?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh," John said, startled. He didn't think that Sherlock could hear him. "It's a song from the sky. We sing it to remember what Earth is like. All the differences are listed. I only know a few pieces, but I like the tune."

"Could you hum it again?" Sherlock requested.

"Okay." John started to hum, more loudly than he had before. Sherlock listened thoughtfully, and when John got to the end, he picked out the notes on the violin. He got a few wrong here or there, but John thought it was the best thing he had ever heard. Sherlock finished, and John clapped. Sherlock giggled and bowed, which set John into a laughing fit. Together, they talked and giggled and played through the rest of the day only breaking for Sherlock to have his meals (John observed the family during those times). John was a bit low-spirited when Mrs. Holmes called "Bed time!" up the stairs, but as he rubbed his eyes and yawned, he realized he was tired. Sherlock watched as John went to the window and seemed to literally drink up the moonlight. They went to bed together again, each comforted by the other's breathing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, chemistry jokes, nerds love them, and I happen to be one. ;)


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took a long time again, but school is officially over, so more updates hopefully! I also have the plot written out, so these chapters should be easier to write for me. That also equals more updates. :) Thanks for sticking around!  
> Another note: This chapter refers back to a fact I made up in earlier chapters.

John woke up, a month later, bleary eyed and very happy. However, he did not know what had caused this extra happiness other than Sherlock, so he just went about his day like he had the first few weeks of living with the Holmeses. Though when he heard a shriek come from Mrs. Holmes, he knew something was up.

She was staring right at him, so he moved a step to his left. Mrs. Holmes' eyes followed him. Sherlock looked on in wonder.

"Who is th-this?" Mrs. Holmes asked. "And why did he come from your bedroom?"

"This is John." Sherlock explained, surprisingly calm for what was happening. He is my friend, I found him-"

"Across the street." John interrupted, ignoring a glare from Sherlock. "I live just down the road, and I was admiring your garden earlier." John smiled and used his secret weapon - star children charm.

"Well, just don't go scaring me like that again!" Mrs. Holmes told him.

"I don't intend to, miss." John grinned, relieved that his charm still worked, even if he was visible.

"Do you want breakfast?" Mr. Holmes asked, sitting at the end of the table, reading an article from the paper. John had forgotten about him. He turned and positively _beamed._

"No, I'm fine, but Sherlock's a twig here, so he has to eat something!" John joked, once again ignoring the look being sent at him. Mr. Holmes chuckled and went back to his newspaper. John took his chance to escape once Mrs. Holmes' back was turned.

He could hear the family having breakfast as he snuck up to Sherlock's room. He started to ponder over the events that had just taken place. Usually only star people with more than one person to grant a wish for became visible to other humans. They still wouldn't show up in photos, but people that had not wished upon them could see them. It was all about how much love they receive. John was visible, and this was his first Granting. He just didn't understand. Apparently Sherlock had given him enough love over three weeks to match other star people's three years. And those three years had been filled with more than thirty Wishers! That reminded John that star people only lasted as long as their Wisher needed before moving on to the next one. It made John sad to think that one day, Sherlock would make another friend, and his need for John would fade. At least, that's how it went when star people weren't visible yet. John had no idea what was going to happen, so he decided that once it was dark, he would contact Asalie, the oldest and wisest star. He was appalled when he found out that humans called her just "SM0313" instead of an actual name, but he kept his mouth shut, and stayed out of trouble. He would just use his star dust to send up a flare and talk to her through light waves. He grimaced a little at the thought. He hated light waves for their quality and speed, but he had nothing else that he could possibly use on Earth.

" _What_ ," Sherlock stormed into the room, "was that? I thought you said that nobody else could see you. Mummy clearly could, and so could father." John rolled his eyes. He sometimes almost forgets that Sherlock is an absolute drama queen. Of course, Sherlock gives him no opportunity to fully forget.

"You love me." John stated.

"What do you mean 'You love me'? You're my friend and of course I care for you, but why would that effect your ability to be seen? Is it- Ohhhhhh." John could see the light bulb go on in Sherlock's eyes. "You mean-"

"What I said earlier. If a star recieves enough love, they become visible. Apparently, I have become visible, and now I will need some help with becoming a part of society." John told Sherlock. "I know who could help, but I need you to explain everything to him to back me up." Sherlock said.

"Who would that be?"

"Mycroft." Sherlock said, and walked out of the room. John followed, not knowing what to expect from Holmes the elder.

...

When Sherlock came to a door just down the hall, he paused outside. "John." He said, obviously trying to start talking, but unsure where to begin. He shuffled his feet and looked at the floor.

"My brother and I don't exactly have a close relationship."

"I know."

"What?" Sherlock abruptly looked up in confusion.

"I was observing your family every meal, remember?" John spoke softly. "I could see how you looked at him and how he looked at you. He really does only want the best for you, he just doesn't show it in an obvious manner."

"That's Mycroft, secrets and suits are his specialty. Along with sweets."

" _Sherlock_." John sighed. It seems like he can't fix the gap between the two brothers. Well, he was only wished upon for friendship, and he was doing that job fairly well if he was already visible. Even if he couldn't make siblings like each other, he could definitely mend Sherlock's broken heart.

"Are you ready to go in?" Sherlock finally asked.

"The question is, are you?" John replied with a grin. Sherlock smirked and turned the door knob.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, summer is a bit crazy too, but I'm going to try and get a couple chapters today. Sorry for the long wait!

When John walked in the room, the first thing he noticed was a professional feel. It was uncluttered and very organized, from Mycroft's laundry to even the colour of his pens. Mycroft was sitting at a large desk, writing papers that were pages long and tough to read from where John was standing. He did see the words "government" and "parliament" a few times, though.

"Hello, William," Mycroft said, not looking up from his work, "and John. What brings you here?"

"How did you-"

"Hello, brother." Sherlock said in a mocking tone. John looked at him disapprovingly, but Sherlock still looked at Mycroft. John could tell that Mycroft was quite a few years older than Sherlock. There might be a decade between them, which would explain the rivalry. Sometimes, when children are far apart in age, they're farther apart in general.

"Sorry, but why'd you call Sherlock 'William'?" John asked. "And how do you know my name?"

" _William_ 's" Mycroft pointedly glared, "real name isn't Sherlock. His full name is-"

"Mycroft!" Sherlock barked. He obviously wasn't comfortable with his full name, and John hated Mycroft for causing embarrassment to his sibling. However, in  response to Sherlock's yell, the older Holmes rolled his eyes and answered John's other question.

"I overheard" John swore Sherlock muttered 'spied' under his breath "Sherlock talking to a 'John' over the past few weeks. Suddenly, a boy appears." The way he says that makes it seem so obvious, why didn't he think of that? "William, you know I hate to repeat myself, but why are you here?"

"John is not just a boy, Myc." Sherlock spoke softly and carefully, it was clear he was thinking through everything he was going to say. "He came when I wished upon a star. I need your help." Sherlock winced a bit, but continued. "He doesn't have anything, no birth certificate, no parents, nothing." Mycroft sighed.

"I shall do my best to gather all the necessary paperwork and get it filled out," Mycroft said. "However, you will owe me, William." Sherlock nods curtly and exits the room, leaving John to say a quick "Good bye." and follow the young boy.

***

"What was that all about?" John asked once they were back in Sherlock's room.

"What was _what_ all about?" Sherlock said, spinning to face the star child. John could see that Sherlock knew, but he didn't want to talk about it, so John just said "Nothing." He was definitely going to talk with Asalie tonight. But for now...

"What do you wanna do now?" He asked. Sherlock grinned and turned towards his closet. He opened it and pulled out a box. John could see the word 'Operation' on the side of the container and he heard things rattling inside as Sherlock walked to the middle of the room and set it on the floor.

"Let's play a game."

***

When the boys left the room, Mycroft went straight to business, writing up papers for a "John Watson." He made everything from birth certificate to college degree (he hadn't filled that one out completely, not yet anyway), and even made 'photos' of John (star children don't show up in photographs, not unless they're incredibly loved, and as far as he could tell, this child was still young). When he was finished, he picked up his phone and dialed a number. Not a normal number, but just the number 42.

"Hello, Mycroft, what can I do for you."

"Yes, Asalie, I have something to tell you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is when the sibling rivalry was at its peak. Mycroft will not call Sherlock 'Sherlock' until mummy sets things right. This is a rather short chapter, it's more of a filler and how John makes his way into the human world. Don't worry, the next one will be longer (and I'll post it later today). :)


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. I was really dreading writing this chapter and the next one. I promise at least two chapters this week, and then probably updates will come once a week! If you want to talk to me or if I've been slacking on updating, come to [my tumblr.](http://ninja-at-baker-street.tumblr.com/)

Later that night, while Sherlock was sleeping (John checked), the star child crouched by the window and called out.

"Asalie, I need you."

_"Yes, dear child, what is it?"_ The beautiful voice of Asalie rang in his ears.

"I need guidance, and answers." John replied.

_"Ask away, but first tell me your name. You know how hard it is to tell with the solar flares."_

"My name is John, and I'm taking care of Sherlock Holmes." John told her. "Well, his name's really William, but he likes Sherlock better."

_"Ah, John. Mycroft has already informed me of the situation. Normally, star children get their papers as a gift on their tenth wisher, but you have risen above the others. You have gotten enough love already to make you visible, I see."_

"Yes, but how? I don't understand." John looked up into the stars as if he could see Asalie if he tried hard enough.

_"Sherlock Holmes is a peculiar child, as I am sure you have already seen. You are the first one he has wished upon, but not the first star in his presence."_

"Mycroft?"

_"Yes, Mycroft was drawn to him when he was very, very young. Sherlock was a genius, and needed help on when to speak his wisdom and when to keep it to himself. Mycroft made himself Sherlock's older brother to try and guide him, but Sherlock is stubborn, and refused to listen and remember what he was taught."_ John remembered how the young genius would deduce everything from how his mum slept, to the affairs of the maid. He never kept anything to himself, and often got in trouble for it. But that still didn't answer John's question.

"How does that make me visible, though?"

_"Patience, child."_ Asalie scolded gently. _"Sherlock was very lonely because of his mouth, and so he wished for a friend. You came and granted his wish, and you have done what Mycroft couldn't. He speaks his mind much less than he did before, and he has a friend whom he cares for very much. You have tamed Sherlock Holmes and that is what made you visible."  
_

"I have not _tamed_ Sherlock, I have just been at his side and supported him. He is not an animal." John said furiously.

_"This is why you're visible, John. He loves you and you love him. Does that answer your question?"_

"Yes, thank you Asalie." John replied respectfully, and with that, John was left in silence. He climbed into the shared bed and fell asleep.

***

 "Sherlock, dear!" Mummy's voice rang up the staircase. "First day of school!"

"Coming, Mum!" Sherlock answered as he climbed out of bed. John opened his eyes to see his friend running around the room like a mad man. John knew from his studies that school was exciting for most kids, but Sherlock took it to another level. The young genius dashed down the stairs and ate breakfast in record time. He came back into his bedroom and furiously dug through his dresser and closet.

"What do you think John, purple or white?" Sherlock asked, holding up two button down shirts.

"Don't you think they're a bit... Fancy?" John suggested. Sherlock shook his head.

"Mum always said to make a good first impression. Purple or white?"

"Purple." John said, and before he could blink, Sherlock had taken his pyjama top off and was starting on the buttons of the shirt. John smiled and put on his own clothes, sticking to a comfy jumper with jeans. Thanks to Mycroft (Sherlock would never admit it), he was going to hover around Sherlock, but he would not take any of the classes. John may have looked young, but he had already been through university. Star people aged more slowly than humans in general.

"Come _on_ , John!" Sherlock yelled impatiently; he was already dressed and he looked ready to go.

"Alright, alright," John said, laughing softly. "I'm coming." He followed Sherlock as the young boy dashed down the stairs and to the door. From there, Sherlock said his good-byes and walked to school with John by his side. He had insisted that he could walk without his mum and dad, and the adults had finally relented when Sherlock had told them he would be walking with someone. So the two boys walked down the road together, laughing and talking all the way.

***

The first time Sherlock deduced something, the kid in question was silent for a moment before wailing loud enough to hear two streets over.

The second time, the kid went straight to the teacher and complained.

After the third time (another crying episode, but not nearly as loud as the first), Sherlock learned to keep his head down and his mouth shut. John grew sad at the sight of Sherlock losing all of his enthusiasm for school. He no longer had the glint in his eye or the excited voice he had been showing constantly that morning. By the end of the day, Sherlock _hated_ school.

"It's dull and dumb and nobody understands my deductions." Sherlock vented on the way back home. "I despise the other kids and the teacher treats me like I know nothing. I don't want to go back, John."

"Well let's talk with your parents about it to see if they can do anything. Maybe you can switch schools."

"It doesn't matter!" Sherlock lashed out. John winced and took a half step away. He tried to hide it, but Sherlock always noticed.

"Do you not trust me too?" He sneered at John who looked at Sherlock with determination.

"I know you're just doing this because you're upset. That doesn't make it okay, it just means I understand where you're coming from. Now-"

"Do you really?" Sherlock questioned. "Of course you don't, now let me be." John looked hurt, so he added, "Just for a bit." Sherlock went up to his room and played violin, sometimes quick, angry strokes, and sometimes long, morose ones. John let Sherlock cool off, and walked around the garden he had landed in. It truly was lovely, and John smiled at the memory of his first few days with Sherlock Holmes. He continued to stroll until it got dark, and then he went inside to face Sherlock.

As soon as he got in the door he was engulfed into a hug.

"Sherlock?" John asked, his head pressed against the boy's heart.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of that." Sherlock apologized and then he let John go. He nodded towards the staircase and John followed him up to his bedroom.

"I talked with mummy, and she says she can drive me to a school that's farther away but better for smart kids. I'll start tomorrow." Sherlock smiled apprehensively and John gave him a large grin.

"So, do you want to play cluedo or operation?" John asked politely. Sherlock ran over to his closet and started to dig out a box.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not british by any means, so if anyone wants to tell me about schools in England, that would be very much appreciated. I know a bit, but not much, so please correct me on anything.


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have this idea that Sherlock learned all he needed before first year from Mycroft, so his parents didn't make him go to whatever the british equivalent of Pre-K is.  
> I know it's short, but I'm going to try and update once a week now, so wish me luck! Again, if you want to know anything or talk to me, here's [my tumblr](http://ninja-at-baker-street.tumblr.com)! Please tell me how I'm doing, comments make me feel better and update more. ;)

Sherlock hesitantly walked into the new school. He knew the kids here wouldn't be _as dull_ as the previous ones, but would they be able to keep up with him? He looked over the girl to his left and made a few _deductions_. Do the kids here even know the word deduction?

"You're wearing a dress because your mum made you, but you're glad you did because you like the boy over there in the corner." He told her. She stared back for a moment before moving away from him. Sherlock sighed. It was simple, really. She had been tugging at the outfit and sitting awkwardly for a while after she came in until she saw the guy in the corner. Probably even John could see that. Sherlock realized that this school would be just as bad as the last one.

Honestly, he should be glad he didn't have to experience anything before Year 1. John looked at him with a worried glance.

"The teacher has a hangover." He whispered to his friend. John smiled, but he was still concerned.

~*Five Years Later*~

"Your dad beats you and your mum does nothing about it." Sherlock spoke without emotion.

"No, I told you, I fell-" The nervous kid tried to explain for a second time.

"Just call child services already; obviously, your mum can't protect you, she has bruises as well." Sherlock advised the poor eleven year old. Really, his suggestion would save him a whole lot of pain and nightmares. Sherlock was caring for other people, isn't that what John told him to do? He looked as his friend to see his face full of disapproval. As he was staring at John, he was too late to block the punch from the mistreated kid. The rest of the day Sherlock kept his mouth shut and refused to answer any questions. When he walked into the house, his parents fawned over him and his newly acquired bruise. Sherlock stayed quiet through that as well.

He didn't need anyone else to hurt him.

~*Three Years Later~*

"I can help, Sherlock!" John told the young teen. "If you keep the deductions in your head, you won't get hit. Or you can just tell them to me. I can tell you if people will appreciate it or not."

"I'd rather take my chances, thanks." Sherlock replied smoothly.

"Why did you come to teach a class about health when you can't keep a diet?" Sherlock questioned the teacher. John winced as Sherlock was ordered to the office for the _third_ time that day.

"Like I said-"

"I'm _fine._ " Sherlock stressed. He didn't talk to John again until after school.

~*Three Years Later*~

"Hey freak!" Students "greeted" Sherlock as he walked down the hallway. Sherlock ignored them and kept walking.

"Sherlock, please listen to me." John requested.

"No, John, I'm fine. I've been fine. I'm used to it."

"And that's exactly the problem!" John said angrily as he blocked Sherlock's path. The boy dodged him with ease and continued his fast pace down the hallway.

"It's not a _problem_." Sherlock snarled as he stalked to his next class. "Besides, I'm almost done with Secondary. Just another few months and I'll be out."

" _Sherlock_." John spoke softly. "You still have uni to go through. I'm sorry to say this but- Sherlock?" The boy was completely tuning John out now. "Sherlock." John tried talking a bit louder, but the young genius still showed no sign that he heard his friend's pleas. John stopped walking and watched as Sherlock kept going without a backwards glance. He was definitely going to have a talk with Asalie tonight. For now, he followed the unresponsive Sherlock.

***

"Asalie, I need your help." John called out.

" _What is it, my child?_ " She replied.

"Sherlock believes he doesn't need me. I am going to fade soon." Stars could become visible, and they could also go back to being practically invisible.

" _Find another who needs guidance. Your time with Sherlock is over for now. There is nothing you can do."_

"But Sherlock-"

" _He will not listen to you any longer. Find another."_ And with that, his adviser was gone.

***

"Sherlock. _Sherlock._ Sherlock." John tried to catch the human's attention. " _Fine._ I guess I really do have to go. See you later, maybe." Then John was gone, searching for a human that needed and _wanted_ him. Of course, he would have no such luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am american, so all my information about schools came from google. If I missed anything or made an error, please tell me.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been more than a week, I'm sorry! I'm trying to be really good with updates, but I haven't been, and I am super sorry. I'm going to try and get another chapter in tomorrow to make up for my poor updating skills.  
> Also, I'm going to start doing these on my ipod, so please tell me about any mistakes you see. :)

John's next human was Harriet Watson, who seemed to believe she didn't need _anyone's_ help, thank you very much. John had appeared in the house, and going by the conversation, he was Harry's brother. Unfortunately.

"Jooooohn!" Harry called out again. "Can I please use your laptop?" John sighed and gave the computer up to his infuriating sibling. "Thank you John, you're the best!" She said going to her room. John knew she only really liked him because he allowed her to do what she wanted. He also supported her having a girlfriend, which was just common sense for him. Apparently humans cared a lot whether you dated a guy or a girl. John personally liked both, so he didn't see what the fuss was all about.

Since John was a star child, he didn't have any human currency, which was going to be a problem for getting into uni. He was living with Harry for now, but it wasn't a permanent solution.

Once a star was visible, they could live in the human world as a human if they wanted to, and John had decided to stay. He told himself that was not because he might see Sherlock again, but because humans were fascinating, and he could study them up close. For now, John was content to do just that.

However, his happiness didn't last long.

"When did mum and dad say they'd be here?" John asked his sister. They said they wanted to see their children after so long without them. In reality, it had been two weeks since their last visit. She looked at the clock and replied, "About two hours ago, should I call?"

"Yeah, probably." He watched, slightly anxious as his sibling called. She didn't speak for a while, then shook her head and hung up.

"Voicemail?" John asked.

"Yeah, should we even bother trying Dad's?" Their dad wasn't what you would call 'tech savvy,' and always forgot how to turn up the volume on his phone.

"Nah, if something's happened we'll get a call." Harry nodded and went back into her room. He could tell that she was as nervous as he was. Their parents were pretty good at showing up, or telling people if they were going to be late. After another scary hour, John's phone buzzed. He looked at the screen, but it was an unknown number. He answered.

"Hello?"

"Is this John Watson?"

"That would be me, yes." John motioned Harry over.

"This is Dr. Evans from London Bridge Hospital. Your mother and father were involved in a car accident. They are seriously injured and we are not sure if they'll make it."

"I'll be there as soon as I can." John hung up. "Let's go." He said to Harry, and she followed him to the car.

"Why do they always call you first?" Harry asked as a weak attempt at a joke. John remained stone faced as he stared out the window, watching but not really seeing. _You see but do not observe_. A familiar voice spoke in his head. He ignored it in favor of staring at the bleak landscape racing by.

***

When the pair arrived at the hospital, everyone moved out of John's way. His eyes revealed how upset he was and nobody dare get in range of the fists swinging at his sides.

"Where are Mr. and Mrs. Watson?" John asked.

"R-room 203." The poor receptionist stuttered. John stormed towards the stairs, the elevator was a waste of time to him. Harry trailed in his wake, but once they got to the door she grabbed his hand.

"Calm down a bit, alright."

John nodded shortly, and climbed the stairs two at a time.

Room 203 was full of life, Doctors and nurses squeezing past each other as machines bleeped in the background. It was like a dance, all the staff moving around like they had choreographed the whole routine. John _hated_ how practiced it looked. Harry took his hand again, and they stood there watching their parents battle for life.

***

For three hours John had stood vigil. _Three_. And yet it made no difference.

Mr. and Mrs. Watson were dead.

Harry had cried for two hours. John held her head on his shoulder until she was done. The siblings went home the next day at 4:30 am. Neither of them slept at all, but they never mentioned it either. They sat together, going over documents and wills and wishes. Neither brother nor sister mentioned that this was way too early. That they shouldn't have to deal with their parents' deaths before they were both in uni. That they were bearly legal to do this.

John took most of the burden on himself. For one, he was older. He was also the star assigned to take care of Harry. He should do it all for her, but she had always been stubborn, and she didn't relent on this topic either.

They scheduled the funeral together, John insisting that he couldn't do the eulogy. She didn't know, but he had only known the Watsons for a few months. John called most of the relatives and friends. Harry decided on the flowers. They organized in silence, only speaking to ask questions like, "Should I call aunt Dawn or not?" and "Is purple okay?" There was really nothing _to_ say anyway.

Harry caught John's eye after a particularly trying call. She put down the papers he was holding and embraced him. John sank in his sister's arms and basked in her familiar smell. They hugged until the phone rang again, and they were rudely reminded why they had arms wrapped around each other.

They continued their work and eventually put together a reasonable event. They (John) had called all the guests. They (Harry) had arranged the decor. Together, they bought coffins and headstones. The funeral would be in two weeks.

***

Harry had become alcoholic.

John had tried his best, he really had, but she had gotten on the booze to distract herself from the death of their parents. 

He sighed as he staggered under the weight of his intoxicated sibling.

"Ya know, jawwwn." She drawled, beer clearly affecting her brain. John flinched at the stench of it in her breath. "You-y're veeeery str'ng." John just kept his mouth shut and walked down the dark street.

He had done this three times in as many days. He couldn't do it anymore.

John needed a new person to help.

***

John decided to join the army. 

Helping a huge cause like that would be enough to keep him visible (although why he wanted to, he didn't know), and it would also provide the necessary funds for surviving amoung humans.

He'll sign the papers tomorrow.

There's always tomorrow. 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I promise I am trying. :) Also, it will get better, and this fic will decend into fluffy smoop.

While on the aeroplane to Afghanistan, John felt something weird. He jolted a bit, and then tried to shake it off.

"Nerves?" One of the soldiers asked.

"Yeah." John faked. Suddenly, the star couldn't remember his childhood.

***

John slept with a lot of people during his early time in the army. He even earned the nickname "Three continents Watson."

Most of these were one night stands, easily forgotten, but still good.

However, John was really craving a good relationship.

***

General Sholto was John's first (and last) army boyfriend.

In the army, it was known that men would give each other a helping hand, but John and Sholto's relationship went beyond that.

They had mutually agreed on that, and also agreed that it wasn't something to boast about either. They weren't necessarily hiding, _per se_ , but they weren't shouting it to the world. That didn't affect their relationship too badly, and they enjoyed each other's company It was always nice when you could talk to someone in the same position and take them to bed later. 

They stuck side by side when they could, and when they couldn't, they made up for it later.

***

Sand. Sun. Shouting orders. Bullets. People bleeding. Dying.

"Dave!" John cried through the rain of projectiles. One of his best mates fell to the dusty ground. John rushed over, tearing open his med pack as he ran. He ran and ran and ran, but he couldn't save him. He couldn't save David. Too much blood, the scarlet liquid a sharp contrast with the tan dirt.  John knew it was hopeless but he tried. Dave's face was twisted in agony. Maybe if he showed that he was doing his best, death would release his grip on Dave. Oh God, Dave's eyes closed. Maybe if he just-

Pain. Red. Black.

***

John woke up in a room filled with nurses. The stench of cleaning supplies and iron was like a cloud. He looked down to his pained shoulder and saw a hole. A small hole, but it hurt like hell. John heard someone screaming. It may have been him, but he was so high on pain and blood, he didn't know. Something was stuck in his skin, and he passed out again.

***

The next time John woke, he saw the worried, haggard face of Bill Murrey hanging above him.

"You're awake!" He shouted. John winced. 

"The nurses told me to call them when you even so much as twitched, but I think I'll give you a minute to orient yourself and ask questions." John nodded, grateful he had. Then he waited for the world to stop spinning around him.

"What happened?" The army doctor finally spoke.

"Hidden soldier group. Your troop got the brunt of it. 23 dead and 37 wounded." John winced again at the double digit numbers. "Yeah, I know, but at least the centre didn't get caught up under that fire," Bill continued. "Anything else?"

"Did Dave make it?" John's mouth formed the words before he knew he wanted to say them. However, he didn't retract his question, he was curious. His face fell as Bill shook his head.

"He bled out. You know it's nearly impossible when you cut a femoral." John agreed sullenly in his head.

"I'll call the nurses now, alright?" Bill told John as he pressed the button. The soldier braced himself for the flurry of people that were sure to come in, but only two came in to check his vitals. They said the doctor would talk to him soon. Then, John fell asleep again.

***

John woke to a polite knock on his door. 

"Dr. John Watson?" The doctor walked in.

"That would be me." John replied, smiling. The young woman smiled back and sat in the seat Bill had vacated. 

"I'm Dr. Morgan, and I'll be taking care of you until your release. Your shoulder is healing rather nicely, there will of course be a scar, but you might be let go a bit early."

"Good, that's... Good."

"Someone else has to talk to you now, I'll leave, you're going to be just fine." Dr. Morgan exited and John's commander walked in. Sholto. John saluted with his hand, and he aknowledged.

"John, you've been honourably discharged. You can go back to England once you've gotten out of here."

"Thank you, sir." John said as his, now former, commander left. He'd been expecting it, once a soldier was injured, they let them go. John just didn't know where he _could_ go.

***

The next day, Sholto came to see John. The commander looked different, as if he knew he had to have this conversation, but didn't want to. He held John's hand and they sat in silence for awhile, afraid of what they had to talk about.

"John..." Sholto broke the delicate atmosphere. "I can't go home yet."

"I know." John said.

"Do you think we should..." Sholto didn't finish, but John knew exactly what he was getting at.

"Yeah. It's over, I'm sorry." Sholto nodded with John's words. He withdrew his hand and left.

John felt more empty than ever. 

***

When John was released, he was very close to becoming invisible again. He started talking with his sister again. He barely got by, and had a limp because of it. He had a cane, and he absolutely _despised_ the thing. It just showed how much of a failure star he was. 

What kind of star had a _human_ therapist? Stars were the ones trying to help the humans, not the other way around!

John couldn't help it though, without action, his world was going black and white.

***

John's life was now officially boring. He stayed at his mostly unfurnished flat, staring at walls, remembering good times (he told them to Ella) and bad (he left those out). In fact, he really only went out for groceries and his therapy sessions. 

Somedays, however, that was too little for John, an adrenaline junkie at heart, and he had to move. On those days he would take walks. Not to meet people or look at the scenery (that was just bullshit he made up for Ella), he did it so he could _move_. John hated being stuck in one place, but he couldn't really afford anywhere else, and he was in no condition for work.

In other words, John was miserable.

He considered several times becoming invisible again, it was hard to maintain his visibility now, but something kept him from going back. He wasn't sure what, but he knew he had a purpose, and he could only fill that purpose by being _visible_.

So he kept to his walks and talking to his sister and his therapist. He stayed part human, and waited for his moment to come. Little did he know it would recognise him on one of his walks.

***

"John. John Watson!" A voice called out. John turned and remembered-

"Mike!"

"Yeah, I know, I've gotten fat." Stamford smiled, and John really didn't know what to say. He had, but that wasn't polite to point out, was it?

"I heard you were somewhere abroad getting shot at. What happened?"

"Got shot." John said bitterly. Mike smiled and offered coffee. John accepted.

They talked about things, like where they lived, and John's nickname, and old school days.

"Are you still at Bart's, then?" John asked after one of his friend's stories.

"Teaching now, yeah. Bright young things like we used to be. God I hate them. What about you, just staying in town while you got yourself sorted?"

"I can't afford London on an army pension." The measly sum was barely enough to cover food, but John budgeted.

"Ah, you couldn't bear to be anywhere else. That's not the John Watson I know." Mike grinned.

"I'm not that John Watson." It was true, the war had changed John. At least he had had something in his future back in uni days.

"Couldn't Harry help?" John snorted.

"Yeah, like that's gonna happen."

"I don't know. You could get a flatshare or something." Stamford seemed hooked on getting him back.

"C'mon. Who'd want me for a flatmate?" He was serious, even his neighbours in the next floor up had complained about his nightmares in the first few days. John looked up to Mike, who had an interesting expression on his face. "What?" John asked, confused.

"You're the second person to say that to me today."

"Who was the first?" John was intrigued. 

"C'mon, I'll show you him, he works part time at Bart's."

"Is that why he can't afford his own flat?" John joked as they started walking.

"Well he doesn't actually work there, he just uses the equipment." John's mouth fell open. He was really rather confused at this point.

"I should warn you too, he's a bit peculiar." John's head spun more than ever. He was grateful for the short silence his friend gave him after that. They didn't speak again until they reached Bart's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will explain John's jolt on the plane in the next chapter. It will all come together in the end!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so so sorry if anyone is actually looking forward to my updates. I'm trying to get better. :) By the way, I changed a few minor things in the previous chapter (I changed them on October 26th), but they matter in the plot of this story.

When John left Sherlock survived. He didn't live, but he survived. He learned to ignore the mocking crowds, their shouts of "Freak" and "Psychopath" no longer ringing in his ears. Of course, when John left it got worse. There was no one to tell him he was brilliant. Nobody ever told him not to listen to "those arseholes." God, Sherlock missed John. He would never admit it though.

 _Caring is not an advantage._ Mycroft's words linger in his mind. His brother could see right through him. Mycroft could  _see_ how much John was affecting him. And Sherlock  _despised_ him for it. There was only one thing to do.

Sherlock quietly closed his door (not that it mattered, for being a diplomat his brother had no respect for his privacy), and he lay back onto his soft mattress. The young genius closed his eyes and went into his mind palace.

 _He walked up the stairs of his house, easily slipping into his bedroom. Once he was there he trudged to the window sill. He certainly wasn't going to enjoy this. There, outside was a star. John. He reached out and grabbed the ball of light. It was very heavy for a ball of gas, but he managed. Sherlock took the memories of his one and only friend over to his desk. But his desk wasn't the final destination, rather it was the small trash can next to it. He slipped the ball into the bin, watching as it grew duller and duller until Sherlock didn't remember why he had come into his mind palace in the first place._ Ah well, _he thought._ I should organize some of this stuff.

And with that, John was erased.

***

After he deleted John, Sherlock spiraled out of control. He did drugs, it was really the only thing he had left to look forward to. He could forget all the people who hated him, who  _used_ him, and just soar. He felt as bright as the sun, and he also felt as if the whole universe revolved around him. He often took his medicine in public so that he would have to be extra careful and make sure nobody noticed him. It added adrenalin to his system and gave his mind an extra boost. Of course one day he got caught when he stumbled upon a crime scene.

"Oi! You! This is a crime scene!" Called a voice. Sherlock ignored the poor policewoman and looked at the body, artfully cut open with the heart removed. It was so  _obvious,_ Sherlock wondered if these "detectives" had enough brain power to get out of bed.

"It was the lover." Sherlock said aloud, and the officers nearby stared at him. Once they got over their initial shock, they realized a barely legal adult was on their crime scene, and they all swooped in to catch Sherlock. Except for one.

"Woah, wait a minute lads. What didja say?" The man said. He was a caucasian male, and he was up for a promotion if he could bag a few more criminals.

"It was the lover," Sherlock repeated. "Look at him, look at what's _missing_."

"Well, we know the heart's missing, but what's that got to do with it?" The policeman asked.

"You're looking for a female, probably a doctor going by how well the body is dissected. Size 38 shoe, there's a footprint by the road in the mud. She must have found out that he had a wife, and murdered him in a fit of rage. Talk to his colleages and any of the bars near his house. Chances are  _someone_  saw him with your killer. Do you need me to tell you more?"

"I think we're good, but-" The detective started.

"Well I'll give you some more anyway, seeing as otherwise you might lose her." Sherlock interrupted. "See the ticket stub in his hand? It will say online that it's his, but it's not. It's the killer's. She's fleeing the country. And-"

"Hang on, how do you know it's hers?" One of the women asked.

"There's a bit of nail polish on the end. I don't know about your experience with men, but usually I don't wear nail polish. Anyway," Sherlock pointed at the man's neck. "There's a small bruise here, which could mean a shot, but that's highly unlikely given that the murderer is a doctor, so it may be a love bite, check it for DNA. Finally, if you look at the man's heel, you'll see two letters." Sherlock knelt near the foot and took out his pocket magnifier. "It says 'JS,' that could either be his initials, her initials, or his wife's initials." Sherlock took a deep breath and looked at the detective who had called back the other men. The man's jaw dropped as he took in all of what Sherlock had said.

"You're sure of all of this?"

"Positive." Sherlock replied, not looking the detective in the eye. He was still high, and it would be immediately obvious to anyone who really looked at him.

"What's your name, mate?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Blimey, that sounds posh. I'm Greg Lestrade. What are you doing in the back alleys, eh?"

"I took a walk."

"Through these streets?" Lestrade looked suspicious.

"Obviously." Sherlock avoided his eyes.

"Hey Sherlock, look at me for a moment?" Sherlock sighed and looked up.

"You're high!" Lestrade whispered. Sherlock braced himself for the inevitable. Then Lestrade continued, "How could you do all that when you're high? I mean, you caught me a murderer. Tell you what, get off the drugs, and I'll take you to another crime scene. I won't arrest you now, but if you're high the next time I see you, I will make sure you never see another crime scene in the area. We got a deal?" Sherlock's eyes visibly brightened.

"Yes. I'll give you my number." Sherlock said, taking out his phone. 

He had something to look forward to.

***

Sherlock met up with Lestrade again, and helped out with the crime, occasionally rolling his eyes when he had to explain things that he thought even  _a baby_  should get. So Lestrade called him after for another case. And then came another. Before long, Sherlock had a job, and he decided to give it a name. Consulting detective. The only one in the world. He wanted it kept that way, so he never really bothered with trying to get credit for his solved mysteries.

"She died somewhere else, bled out most likely, but it wasn't that far away. The murderer was fairly weak, he couldn't drag her far. I would check out any apartments near here for the scent of cleaning supplies."

"Anything else?" The newly promoted DI asked.

"She didn't know her killer, that's for sure. She put up quite a fight. Maybe there's some skin that can be analysed under the nails. The murderer was left handed and male, going by how wide the finger prints are." Sherlock splayed his own hand to show Lestrade. "There's some short black hair on the body, that could be from a friend, the killer, or one of these incompetents." Sherlock glared at one of the officers who sheepishly snuck off to another part of the scene.

"Alright, I think that might be enough. See you next time, then." Sherlock left the room with a dramatic twirl of his coat.

***

While Sherlock was at Bart's running blood tests, Mike came in for a chat. Well, he came to talk  _at_ Sherlock and hope for a few replies.

"So how's the crime work going? Got any answers yet?"

"Not quite." Sherlock answered shortly. He put two drops of a blue fluid into the small container of blood, and his face lit up as it bubbled.

"Now have you got one?" Mike asked, smirking.

"Possibly." Sherlock answered before spinning to collect the rest of his work. He sighed as he gathered his stuff. "I need an assistant. I left my riding crop at home."

"What you need is a friend. Someone who lives with you." Mike suggested. Sherlock snorted.

"I'm a very difficult man to find a flatmate for, believe it or not." He gave a small upturn of his lips before dashing out of the lab and to his flat.

"Yeah, I can believe it." Mike said to no one in particular. He left to go for a walk in the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't get it, John couldn't remember his childhood because Sherlock deleted him. He couldn't remember helping Sherlock because Sherlock couldn't remember John helping him. That's also why they won't "know" each other when they meet.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't finish NaNoWriMo, but I am going to finish my novel at the end of December (time permitting). However, you guys have waited quite a long time, so here's the final chapter of this part!

_John POV_

John walked into the lab and smiled.

"Bit different from my day." He spoke. He noticed a man sitting at the far side of the room. He looked familiar, though John had no memory of how he knew the man.

"You've no idea!" Mike laughed.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine." the man asked in a deep baritone. God, even his voice reminded him of... something.

"And what's wrong with the landline?" Mike replied.

"I prefer to text." _Kids these days_ , John thought. Though that really wasn't fair, he used human technology as much as a real one. Still, phone calls were nice. But maybe the man had a reason?

"Sorry. It's in my coat." John fished around for his mobile.

"Er, here. Use mine." The man look vaguely surprised, like most people weren't even that kind to him. John felt sorry for the poor man.

"Oh. Thank you." He glances over John and looks at Mike.

"Old friend of mine, John Watson." Mike introduced. 

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" The tall man asked. John looked at him.

"Sorry?" What was he even talking about? Had Mike told him anything before John even got here?

"Which was it - Afghanistan or Iraq?" He repeated.

"Afghanistan. Sorry how did you-" A young woman walked in. _Poor timing_ , John thought.

"Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you." The man took the cup from her grip. His hands were so large they dwarfed the cup!

"What happened to the lipstick?" John looked at the girl's face. There was an absence of lipstick, but you couldn't tell from a glance.

"It wasn't working for me." She said with a strained smile.

"Really? I thought it was a big improvement, your lips are too small now." The man dismissed her with a flippant wave of his hand.

"Okay." The poor girl said.

"How do you feel about the violin?" Oh. He was addressing John again. 

"I'm sorry, what?" He winced internally. This was probably the third time he hadn't been listening properly.

"I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other." So Mike did tell about John. It made sense now.

"Oh, you," John looked at Mike. "You told him about me."

"Not a word." John had had enough of this man's tricks.

"Then who said anything about flatmates?" He replied smoothly.

"I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn’t that difficult a leap." He grabs his coat and puts it on.

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" John asked, curious. The odd man just wraps his scarf around his neck.

"Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We’ll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o’clock. Sorry – got to dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary." And with that he's already by the door, John still standing in the same place that he was when he started this strange conversation.

"Is that it?" 

"Is that what?" John sighed internally.

"We’ve only just met and we’re going to go and look at a flat?"

"Problem?" The infuriating man tilts his head innocently. John can't help but look to Mike for support.

"We don’t know a thing about each other. I don’t know where we’re meeting, I don’t even know your _name_." Those things were rather necessary if you're looking to share a flat.

"I know you’re an Army doctor and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you’ve got a brother who’s worried about you but you won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him – possibly because he’s an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife." The man speaks in a rush, not even pausing for breath.

"And I know that your therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic – quite correctly, I’m afraid." John looks at his cane and his leg. Stupid thing.

"That’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think?" Then the man walks out the door.  _Out the door_. But his head appears before the door closes fully. _  
_

"The name’s Sherlock Holmes, and the address is two two one B Baker Street." _He winks._ Then he looks at Mike. "Afternoon." Mike nods and gives a little wave. John stares at Mike in disbelief. What had just happened?

"Yeah. He’s always like that." Mike says. John looks back to the door and thinks,  _I'm going to follow this madman._

Besides, he felt like he knew the man- Mr. Holmes, he corrected himself -and they'd only been in the room for a few minutes. John barely even got his name out of him!

***

Back at his bedsit, John pulls out his phone. It had just occurred to him that he could look at the message Mr. Holmes had sent.

**_If brother has green ladder_ **   
**_arrest brother._ **   
**_SH_ **

It's confusing as hell, but John never went for easy.  _Definitely following this madman._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next part is going to be after a lot of their adventures, so I'm going to make it a separate work! I will probably start writing it in January.

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse my Americanism and any mistakes.


End file.
